


early in the morning

by CoraClavia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 16:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: Last night was team night, and this morning, Jack needs coffee.





	early in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as my contribution to a challenge for several authors. Well, I am not naming any names - AHEM - but y'all know who you are and I'm just saying, I finished mine :D
> 
> (set around season 3)

Jack wakes up groggy. _Ugh_. Definitely shouldn’t have had that last beer last night.

Or three.

Team nights end up late enough that the team usually crashes at his place, but even though he’s tired and creaky and a little grumpy, his body clock wakes him up early. Too many years of military discipline to let himself sleep in the way he’d like to. Oh, well.

After sliding into jeans and a clean t-shirt, running a hand over his stubbled jaw, and deciding it’s too much effort to shave, he shuffles out into the hallway. He’s aiming for the kitchen when he stops short, breathing in the smell of salvation.

That’s coffee.

Someone’s already started coffee. Oh, thank God.

Daniel’s still lying face-down on the couch, completely dead to the world, so it’s not him, and Teal’C is nowhere to be seen, so that only leaves –

Sure enough, Jack rounds the corner to find Carter poking at the coffeemaker, unaware of his presence.

_Oh_.

The sight of her first thing in the morning doesn’t usually faze him – it’s not like he doesn’t often see her rolling out of her sleeping bag on alien planets, grumbling under her breath – but she’s not usually wearing his clothes.

It was hot yesterday, so she showed up in shorts, and Daniel had given her some kind of shit about wearing her Daisy Dukes. She’d slapped his shoulder for it, he complained, Jack had told them both to stop being children, and Teal’C had just watched them with quiet exasperation.

But the temperature dropped once the sun went down, he remembers. She must have gotten chilly after he went to bed, because she’s wearing one of the old flannel shirts he keeps in the guest room closet. The shirt is worn, faded blue and green, big enough that it’s hanging off her shoulders, the hem long enough to hit her thighs.

She turns around, finally noticing him, and her eyes brighten. And he’s usually better at clamping down on his gut reaction to her, but it’s early and he’s tired and she’s wearing his shirt and that beaming smile hits him square in the chest.

“Morning, sir. You want some coffee?”

“Ah – sure, thanks.”

He watches her pad over to his cabinets, reaching for the shelf where he keeps his cups. The sight of her in his home, all barefoot and soft and comfortable, is dangerously appealing. She’s stretching up on her toes, reaching for the top shelf of his cabinet, all long legs and just the slightest bit of bare skin between her shorts and tank top.

She looks totally at ease, sleepy and domestic, and he’s not ready for the jolt of arousal that hits him at what looks like a morning after, with a woman he’s not allowed to think about wanting.

It’s just – it seems so natural. Like this is something they do every morning. Like she just slipped out of bed beside him, grabbed whatever shirt she took off his body last night, and she’s coming right back to curl up next to him again.

It’s been – well, it’s been longer than he cares to think about. A long, long time since he’s seen his shirt worn by a woman he feels so strongly about. It’s wrong. It’s _so_ wrong. But he’s too tired to chase away the feeling, his body’s reaction completely instinctive.

Images flash in his mind, vivid and unbidden. Crowding her up against the cabinets. Lifting her up onto the counter. Chasing away her smirk with his lips. The hot pressure of her thighs tightening around his hips. Sliding his hands over the soft, worn flannel of his shirt on her. Opening the buttons one at a time, tracing his mouth over the bare skin underneath.

Dropping the shirt on the floor and making her forget all about breakfast.

Jack blinks, hoping she hasn’t caught him undressing her with his eyes, but he stops short. She’s staring at him wide-eyed, a pink blush blossoming on her cheeks, her lips parted. Her gaze dips briefly to his mouth, then back up, and he knows, clear as a bell: she’s thinking about the exact same thing he is.

“Hey guys.”

Daniel’s voice cuts through the silence, and she turns away, back to the cabinet.

Jack shuts his eyes. “Morning.”

He can’t be annoyed. He can’t. Because Daniel didn’t interrupt anything. Because Jack O’Neill does not stand in his kitchen and stare lustfully at his second-in-command.

Daniel walks into the kitchen rubbing his bleary eyes, glasses in hand, totally oblivious to whatever it is that he just interrupted.

_Didn’t interrupt_, Jack corrects himself.

It was a random wayward thought, he tells himself. It was nothing. It’s early. He’s just tired enough to be stupid.

But when she hands him a cup of coffee just a minute later, her fingers brush against his. It lasts just a hair too long to be accidental, and the shock that runs through him is unmistakable.

Then he sees her stealing a look at him over the rim of her own cup, and from the flush still coloring her cheeks, well.

Maybe this thing isn’t so one-sided.

Daniel inhales his coffee like it’s life. “Mmm. Hey, nice shirt, Sam.”

Jack chokes a little on his coffee, but Carter just shrugs, studiously avoiding his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Teal’C joins them, and Jack rubs his hands. Right. Being normal. _Not_ thinking about Carter naked.

“Scrambled eggs good with everyone?”

He heads for the fridge. Carter’s standing near it, and without really thinking, he places a hand on the small of her back, just a casual touch to make sure he doesn’t bump into her.

But her reaction is immediate; he can feel the sharp intake of breath, the warmth of her skin under the threadbare flannel as she arches under his touch. She looks up at him, and her face is so close, her lips are just inches away, he could –

He swallows hard, pulling his hand away from her, and she backs up, brushing her hair back self-consciously.

“Carter –”

But he stops, because what can he say?

“Sorry, sir.”

Her voice is softer than usual. She backs up, moves away, leaving Jack staring at the contents of his fridge.

* * *

After the rest of the team leaves, Jack putters around the kitchen for a while before heading back to his bedroom.

The shirt is folded neatly on his bed.

He stares at it for a long moment before shaking his head.

_It’s nothing_.


End file.
